TRILOGY FINALE: The Last Door

TRILOGY FINALE: The Last Door

(Finale to “The Shape of Your Shadow” and “The Weight of His Silence”)

Helena didn’t stop running until she hit the stairwell.

Her legs shook so violently she nearly collapsed, gripping the cold metal railing as her breath tore through her chest. Behind her, the apartment hall remained horribly silent—no footsteps, no voice calling her name. Silence was worse. Silence meant he was thinking. Planning.

Adrian didn’t chase impulsively. He never did anything impulsively.

Helena bolted down the stairs anyway, fighting the dizzy swirl of fear pressing in on her skull.

When she reached the building exit, she shoved the door open hard enough it slammed into the brick. Night air rushed over her, cold and sharp like a slap. For a second she simply stood there, gulping air, grounding herself.

Call Daniel.

Call anyone.

Run.

Her hands shook so badly she dropped her phone twice before finally dialing.

“Helena?” Daniel answered immediately, breathless—he must have been on his way after their call dropped. “Where are you?”

“Outside my building,” she managed, voice barely holding together. “He—Adrian—he was right there—he heard everything—”

“I’m coming,” Daniel said. “Stay where there are people. Do not go back inside.”

She turned toward the sidewalk, heading for the corner store lit up like a beacon at the intersection. A group of teenagers lingered outside; she wasn’t alone. She clung to that fact like a rope.

But just before reaching the store, she stopped.

Across the street, under the yellow streetlamp, someone was standing.

Marcus.

Her breath hitched. He leaned on a metal crutch, thinner than she remembered, hospital bracelet still on his wrist. But it was him.

He raised a hand in a small, trembling wave.

Helena froze in the middle of the crosswalk.

Then he called out softly, “It’s okay. You can come.”

---

They sat on a bench by the bus stop, bathed in the glow of the streetlamp. Helena struggled to form words.

“You’re out,” she whispered.

“Not permanently,” Marcus said. “Supervised release for a few hours. Daniel said you were in trouble.”

Her eyes stung. “I never wanted you dragged back into this.”

Marcus shook his head. “It was never just about me.”

She laughed weakly. “My taste in men is straight-up cursed.”

His lips twitched. “Just unlucky.”

Her smile fell. “He pretended to be everything you weren’t. He acted like the version of you that—”

“That you wished I could be?” Marcus finished quietly.

She stared at him, guilt heavy in her chest. “No. Not that.”

“Helena…” His expression softened, sad but warm. “You don’t have to protect me from the truth. He studied me. Studied us. He wanted to fill the space I’d left. Don’t blame yourself for his obsession.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m scared.”

Marcus nodded. “You should be.”

She looked up sharply.

“He’s not like me,” Marcus said. “He doesn’t love you. He covets you. There’s a difference.”

“Marcus… how did you know he’d come after me?”

Marcus hesitated before answering.

“Because he always follows the person I care about most.”

Helena’s heart clenched. She wasn’t sure what emotion hit her—fear, guilt, or something softer and more dangerous.

Before she could respond, Daniel’s car screeched to a halt beside them. He jumped out, eyes scanning Helena quickly for injuries, then turned to Marcus.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said breathlessly.

“You told me to help her,” Marcus said simply.

Daniel exhaled, torn between exasperation and relief. “Right now we need to get you both somewhere safe.”

Helena opened her mouth to answer—

A voice cut through the night like silk pulled taut.

“I think you’re already safe. With me.”

All three turned.

Adrian stood on the opposite side of the street, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, expression unreadable. His calmness was worse than anger. Worse than violence.

Marcus went absolutely still.

Adrian’s gaze drifted toward him, and something dark flickered behind his eyes.

“So this is what it takes for her to run back to you,” Adrian said softly.

“Stay back,” Daniel warned, stepping between them.

But Adrian didn’t move closer. He didn’t need to. His voice carried like a whisper held between mirrors.

“I learned from the best, you know,” he said, directing the words at Marcus. “You show her your broken edges, and she patches them with her heart. I wanted that. I deserved that.”

Marcus stood, crutch shaking under his weight.

“You don’t love her,” he said quietly. “You want to be seen through her eyes. That’s not love.”

Adrian tilted his head. “You would know something about wanting what you can’t have.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened.

Daniel whispered, “This is escalation. He planned this.”

Helena’s pulse hammered. “Adrian… please. Just walk away.”

Adrian’s eyes softened—agonizingly, heartbreakingly tender.

“I would never hurt you, Helena,” he said. “I only want what’s best for you.”

“Then let me go,” she whispered.

For a moment, Adrian’s face cracked—just a hairline fracture, but enough.

Then he smiled.

“You already belong to me. You just don’t see it yet.”

Marcus stepped forward, voice breaking. “She never belonged to either of us.”

The words hung in the air.

And then it happened too fast.

Adrian reached into his coat and pulled out something small—metal glinting under the streetlamp. Daniel lunged, knocking Marcus aside as Adrian raised it—

Not a gun.

A key.

A single silver key.

He held it out to Helena.

“I made you a copy,” he said softly. “So you can always come home.”

Helena’s skin crawled.

Marcus grabbed her arm. “Helena. Move.”

Daniel was already calling the police.

But Adrian only smiled—then slowly, deliberately stepped backward into the darkness between two buildings.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll come back when you’re ready.”

Then he disappeared.

---

The police swept the area. They found nothing.

Adrian’s apartment was empty, his phone disconnected, his job resigned days earlier. He had vanished with the precision of someone who had planned escape long before being discovered.

For the next week, Helena barely slept. She stayed at a secure facility arranged by Daniel. Marcus was there too, under supervision—less as a patient now than as someone who understood the danger better than anyone.

One night, as rain tapped against the windows, Helena found him sitting alone in the common room.

“You saved me,” she said softly.

Marcus shook his head. “You saved yourself. I just reminded you how.”

She sat beside him, their shoulders nearly touching.

“What happens now?” she whispered.

Marcus looked at her with a fragile, earnest honesty she had never seen from him before. “Now we heal. Separately or together. Whatever you choose. But Adrian… he’ll come back. Not because of you. Because he can’t stand losing.”

Helena exhaled shakily. “I’m so tired of being afraid.”

“You’re allowed to be,” Marcus said gently. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s choosing to stand anyway.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. He didn’t move. Didn’t tense. Just breathed with her.

“For what it’s worth,” Marcus added quietly, “I’m not running anymore. Not from him. Not from myself.”

Helena closed her eyes.

For the first time in months, she felt steady.

Not safe—safety was a fragile illusion.

But steady.

And that was enough.

Because when Adrian came back—and he would—she wouldn’t face him alone.